


(Whilst I watch in silence) You’re Starting Forest Fires

by moonqueenallura



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 05:12:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4466702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonqueenallura/pseuds/moonqueenallura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Munakata Reisi is forced to bury an old friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Whilst I watch in silence) You’re Starting Forest Fires

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for anime spoilers and creative liberty taken by the author; title is taken from Lauren Aquilina's "Forest Fires".

Munakata’s sword plunged into Mikoto’s waiting heart, and time stood still. Blood splattered onto the snow, an ironic display against the harsh blue sky. The Red Sword of Damocles disintegrated, and Suoh Mikoto was no more.

**

_When Munakata first met Mikoto, he didn’t get what he thought he would. What he expected was a careless, irresponsible man, someone who couldn’t control his powers (much like his predecessor). He got that and more, of course. Munakata and Mikoto collided like chemicals reacting._

__

_“Are you HOMRA’s Suoh Mikoto? It’s nice to meet you. My name is Munakata Reisi, and I am the head of SCEPTER 4. I hope we can get along without too many complications,” said Munakata with his characteristically confident, winning smile._

__

_Mikoto grunted. Munakata took this to mean that he didn’t bother dignifying his statement with a proper response and realized what a truly difficult man he was dealing with. However, as Mikoto gazed back at Munakata, the flames that seemed to emanate from Mikoto’s very body licked at Munakata’s skin._

__

_The embers from their first encounter would no longer burn Munakata after Mikoto was long gone._

**

Mikoto smiled at Munakata. “I’m sorry for making you do the dirty work, Munakata,” he rumbled in his his low voice, slowly fading out as he took his final breaths.

Munakata was simultaneously infuriated by Mikoto’s disgustingly gentle smile and saddened by the thought of letting him go. “Don’t give me that rubbish while looking at peace with yourself. Couldn’t you have done something so that this wouldn’t have happened?”

“Don’t say anything more, Munakata,” he replied. Saying so, he spread his arms as if he was ready to accept death itself, as if it was what he was waiting for all along.

 

As the Red Sword of Damocles came hurtling toward the ground, Munakata immediately reacted. With all senses on high alert, he fulfilled his duty as the Head of Scepter 4 and Shizume City’s Fourth and Blue King by eliminating the threat to civilian safety. His sword carried out the highest order of justice as it always had; this time, Munakata felt the bitter, metallic taste of blood in his mouth.

The bright, raging flame that was once Suoh Mikoto turned into embers that set Munakata’s nerve endings on fire. The embers died and only the ashes remained.

**

_What began as an awkwardly confusing relationship became an intense rivalry.  Munakata and Mikoto would encounter each other in usually combative ways. Their fights ended in stalemates and destroyed property (that, of course, Munakata had to take responsibility for)._

__

_It wasn’t as if Munakata completely hated Mikoto (even if he said so all the time). Mikoto was careless, lazy, and chaotic, everything that Munakata despised. He did, however, have a presence about him that drew people to him. Munakata marveled at the loyalty the red clansmen had for their King._

__

_HOMRA was founded on blood bonds and a violent display of loyalty. It was made of a ragtag bunch of teenagers with nothing better to do and nowhere else to go. Chaos and discord were HOMRA’s forte, but it was apparent to Munakata that amidst the chaos was a strong sense of camaraderie. In comparison, SCEPTER 4 was systematic, organized, and refined. Munakata didn’t bother with useless displays of loyalty (after all, he was content to accept HOMRA’s traitor into his fold), but he picked those that seemed to have a unique form of talent. And although Munakata valued efficiency and productivity over anything else, he also sought out the same bonds that kept HOMRA together. Awashima and Fushimi, his subordinates that had the most access to him, seemed to seek the same thing out of him. But Munakata was patient and he’d bide his time wisely. There was no need to rush such things as forming relationships. It seemed that his Kingly counterpart was the opposite: he fought as if his time was running out._

__

_During and after one of their many encounters (Munakata had just finished tracking yet another strain that was wreaking havoc in Shizume City), he took the time to speak to Mikoto. He wanted to understand his opponent._

 

_“Suoh, I assume that you’re sufficiently close to your second-in-command and that meek-looking boy that accompanies you, but do you bother interacting with your other clansmen at all?” he asked, adding only a hint of curiosity in his otherwise clinical tone._

__

_Mikoto lowered his hands (still covered in flames) and gazed at Munakata. “What’s it to you, Munakata?”_

__

_“Nothing in particular. I don’t care if you run your clan to the ground, Suoh, but I am a bit interested in how your clan functions without responsibility and organization,” Munakata quipped back._

__

_Mikoto smirked. “Our clan may not be as fancy as yours, Munakata, but we’re getting by. No need for you to concern yourself with it.”_

__

_Munakata internally grimaced but kept a cool face. He sheathed his sword and walked toward his adversary. “Suoh,” he began in that same clinical tone of his, “I do believe that we can prevent frequent encounters if we understand each other more. After all, I’m sure you don’t like wasting your, er, precious time, and I certainly don’t want to consume any more of my own time on paperwork.”_

__

_Mikoto also walked closer. They were all most eye-to-eye, and the damn embers that Mikoto emanated once again burned Munakata’s skin. Munakata did not flinch or move back, but he would later wonder why the hell his skin felt inflamed after every encounter with his barbaric opponent._

__

_“Munakata,” Mikoto said in that rumbling baritone of his voice (very fitting for his destructive, all-consuming powers), “If you want to get to know me, you have to share a cigarette with me. And drop the fancy act, too. I don’t hang around your type normally,” he said while lighting a cigarette of his own. He breathed out into the evening air and Munakata’s skin warmed some more._

__

_“I don’t hang around your type either, Suoh, and I certainly don’t bother with unhealthy habits,” Munakata scoffed._

_Mikoto took a puff of his cigarette. “Don’t you ever feel the burden of this power? There’s a goddamn sword hanging over your head, Munakata. Don’t try and tell me that you’ve never felt it,” he admitted, eyeing Munakata with a liquid gaze that rattled his bones._

__

_Munakata stared back at him. “Of course I understand our burden, Suoh. Only a King can understand another King.”_

__

_Mikoto threw the cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his feet. Munakata observed the dying embers of the cigarette and wished the fire within him would die like that too (instead, it continued to torture him, licking away at his very core)._

__

_“If you understand it, then let’s stop this act and share a drink one day, Captain Munakata. Maybe then I’ll let you understand me some more,” drawled Mikoto sarcastically._

__

_Munakata glared at him, finally losing his cool demeanor, and stepped an inch closer. Mikoto was his height. An eternity of silence passed between them, and it was almost as if they’d clash again. Instead, Munakata finally replied, “I’ll think about it,” and left, turning on his heel and immediately contacting Awashima about the recent development regarding the strain._

__

_Mikoto felt a bit breathless after seeing the Blue king so close. True to form, Munakata was beautiful in a controlled way. Mikoto was curious to see what he’d be like smoking a cigarette, that mouth blowing out a curl of smoke, or how he’d act when drunk, messing up that damned uniform of his, lying in the chaos of Mikoto’s own red._

__

_Smirking to himself at the thought, Mikoto also left. Burned buildings and a broken pavement provided testament to a moment that changed the two for the rest of their short time together._

**

Before Mikoto took his last breath, he had said, “Sorry Anna. I won’t be able to show you that lovely red anymore.”

 

Munakata wasn’t surprised that even before dying, Mikoto was thinking of his clansmen. “Hmph,” he whispered, “Even in death you still have to show off.”

He lowered Mikoto’s body onto the snowy ground and observed it. Mikoto had never been a hero - he was far too apathetic and turbulent - but he certainly was loved. Munakata had admitted to him, in their final conversation before their fated fight, that he had come to visit an old friend, but Mikoto was more than that to him. He was a rival, a fellow King, a friend, and a sexual partner. And while he wouldn’t call Mikoto his lover (such words were too trivial for their irritating bond), he couldn’t deny to himself that Mikoto had become important to him.

Mikoto chose Munakata to kill him and lay him to rest, and for that, Munakata would forever loathe him. He felt the salty taste of tears flowing down his face, but he didn’t bother wiping at them. Suoh Mikoto did not deserve his tears or his friendship, but Munakata had provided them anyway. He killed his old friend with his own hands in order to save the city.

Munakata did not regret his actions, in part because of his duty and in part because he knew it was what Mikoto wanted from him the most. Perhaps that was why he had spoken to him so candidly that day - because he could rely on Munakata to ease his suffering. When Munakata told him that only kings can understand each other’s burdens, he didn’t think Mikoto would use that against him. He didn’t think Mikoto would rely on him to impart death.

 

For a fleeting moment, Munakata wished he had the ability to set fire to his surroundings. The moment passed, of course, but if he truly had that power he could’ve burned Mikoto’s body so that neither blood nor bone would be left. He’d store the ashes in his earthen heart and leave the scorched grounds in silence.

He did not have that luxury today.

Suoh Mikoto’s flame was put out quickly, but while he lived he was a forest fire, engulfing everything and leaving nothing behind. Munakata’s heart was not spared. He picked up Mikoto’s body and carried it deep into the woods. The silence followed him until it became deafening.

When things began falling apart, Munakata considered whether he was “in love” with Mikoto or not. At the time, he certainly began to despise Mikoto for hurting them both in such a callous way and rampaging everywhere he went. He had asked Mikoto why he was doing so much for the sake of one clansman. In retrospect, Munakata knew that there were some things he still couldn’t touch, some aspects of Mikoto that he’d never comprehend. Mikoto had simply replied that he was tired and that it was his time to leave his mark.

Munakata’s tears kept falling. They fell onto the snow with a soft pitter patter as Munakata kept walking. He didn’t know why he was crying - he was not a sentimental or emotional man, but Mikoto had forced his hand in such a cruel way that he was left permanently scarred. He was scarred by a relationship that started out so brightly and ended in an infinitesimally broken moment. Munakata remembered the Sword of Damocles falling and then the blood on the snow, and that was all.

Munakata did not regret that their relationship deteriorated so spectacularly. Even in his worst moments, Mikoto relied on him. And it wasn’t his fault that Mikoto had destroyed himself, but he wished that he hadn’t been trapped in Mikoto’s web of sparks and rage. If he couldn’t save Mikoto, he could have, at the very least, saved himself.

Having found a glade, Munakata began digging a hole. He used his powers to speed the process up. It was scary how he could dig the hole with such efficiency while he was internally tormented by what just transpired. But he didn’t want to waste anymore time on Suoh Mikoto. It seemed like he had spent a lifetime chasing after that broad, fiery back; it seemed like a lifetime ago that Suoh Mikoto captured him. And it all faded in the blink of an eye.

Mikoto was never his everything. They weren’t even lovers. The sex between them kept his skin constantly on fire, and their interactions eased the stress of being a King, but ultimately it wasn’t enough to prevent Mikoto from acting out his selfish desires.

Munakata lowered Mikoto’s body into the hole he dug. Stretching, Munakata began piling snow onto the makeshift grave he created.

Mikoto didn't need or deserve a headstone. He had left visible evidence behind to show people that he had lived - oh god, had he lived.  Perhaps it would be prudent of him to inform the red clansmen where he buried Mikoto, but he would do so in the aftermath. For now, he continued the burial as the snow fell around him.

The embers that once tortured Munakata finally faded into nothingness.

**

_Slowly, Munakata ran into Mikoto in the weirdest places. Bookstores. Coffee shops. Restaurants. The park. Bars. He couldn't escape him._

__

_They resigned themselves into accepting the plain fact that it was a small world after all. They began sharing drinks on Munakata's days off. Munakata even shared a couple of cigarettes with Mikoto, much to his own ire and Mikoto's glee._

__

_Munakata would never admit this outright, but it was good to sit down and talk to someone who understood and shared his burden. Mikoto was not, by any means, eloquent or philosophical, but he could listen well. And he had insights of his own. They led different lives during the day time, but on certain days it was perfectly alright to get away from their clans and find their own corner of the world._

__

_The line between hesitant platonic intimacy and sexual passion was obliterated one night when they both drank a little too much. As it is, the tension between them had been building recently. Mikoto would not stop glancing at Munakata's lips. Munakata would not stop looking at him in peculiarly come-hither ways. It was a tension that had existed between them from their very first encounter, although they initially chose not to react to it._

__

_They crashed into a hotel room after Mikoto brushed against Munakata, setting off a chain reaction. Their first kiss tasted like freedom. Neither of them had control over their eagerness; it was as if everything boiled down to this moment. Mikoto licked into Munakata's mouth as he unbuttoned his shirt. Munakata, in turn, spread his hands over Mikoto's chest and kissed him with the same frantic manner._

__

_Clothes successfully removed, they collapsed into bed. In ecstasy, Mikoto took them both to heaven._

__

_Morning came. Sunlight bathed their naked bodies gold, and Munakata sat up. Ignoring the dull ache in his back, he glanced at his opponent-turned-sexual partner. Were they lovers now? Munakata certainly didn't want attachment, and he didn't think Mikoto was the type to value it either. But they didn't have to be in love for their relationship to be affectionate or meaningful._

__

_Mikoto's arms were solidly wrapped around Munakata’s waist. Munakata sighed and attempted to get up, but Mikoto chose that moment to stir._

__

_"What's the matter? Can't the Captain stay in bed on a Saturday?" he asked, smirking at Munakata._

__

_Munakata grinned back at him. "He can, but he prefers spending his Saturdays productively rather than spending them in bed with his rival."_

__

_Mikoto laughed softly. "Do you always do these things your rivals?"_

__

_Munakata glanced at him and whispered, “No, but then again most of my rivals have an IQ that actually matches mine.”_

__

_Mikoto laughed and pulled Munakata back beneath him. “Then I guess I’ll have to make up for that in other ways, huh?” he said while gently laving his tongue on Munakata’s neck._

__

_Munakata wrapped his arms around him. “I think I could get used to that,” he said._

__

_The sunlight  witnessed the fiery inferno once again blaze between the two rivals. This time, though, they were engrossed in a flirtatious, loving form of intimacy.  And the embers glowed brighter and hotter in Munakata’s heart._

__

**

Munakata, finished with the burial, stood up and shook the snow off his uniform. He left the grave and willed himself not to glance back. The blood on his hands seemed to freeze.

Suoh Mikoto had crashed into his life with a disorganized lack of finesse. Munakata had fought hard against being held captive by that man, but it was to no avail.

A crack appeared in the blue Sword of Damocles. A fissure tore Munakata Reisi’s heart in two. Yet he still walked with his head held high, sword sheathed, a methodical march back into reality.

Munakata wiped the blood on his hands off. He put his glasses back on and gazed into the world with a steely resolve that belied the continuous turmoil within him. He was an ocean of pain. He was the harbinger of justice, the blue King, the head of SCEPTER 4. He had a job to do, obligations to fulfill. And he left the ashes of Suoh Mikoto behind. They were carried away by the wind.

There were no longer any embers in Munakata’s heart, for they faded as Suoh Mikoto took his last breath.

FIN.

 

 

 


End file.
